


⧓banquet⧓

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Coming Untouched, Communication during sex, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Isolation, M/M, Masturbation In A Car, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Setting in a Pandemic World, not everything going as expected during sex but talking through it and working out alright, restraint play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm hasn't been out of the loft in a while, so he and Gil go out to display wares for Jessica's charity banquet auction, only to race home to spend the night together.Whumptober: Forced to their Knees + Manhandled + Caged + Kinktober: Dom + Sub + Eating Out
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	⧓banquet⧓

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober + Kinktober = this experiment. I have a handful of different Kinktober prompt lists and the Whumptober prompt list, so I'm going to cross them over as much as I can. These two days worth came from [Kinktober](https://lustyargonianmaid.tumblr.com/post/627757371721220096/time-to-start-planning-kinktober-fandom-works), [Kinktober](https://jbbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/627189398153363456/kinktober-2020), and [Whumptober](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated).

"Five more minutes," Malcolm says, holding tighter around Gil's middle. His head burrows further into Gil's bare chest, wild hair strands covering his whole face. No longer required to go anywhere every day, Malcolm has returned to experimenting with his look, something Gil hasn't seen since the kid returned to New York. Gil especially appreciates a little extra hair and beard to tug on when they're alone together.

"I've gotta go to work, kid." Gil tames Malcolm's hair with his fingers, tucking some of it behind his ear with the care they reserve for each other. He'd rather turn over and hold his partner for as long as they both desire, but he's the lead — he needs to set an example. Dani and JT will be waiting for him at the precinct, and it’s not fair to expect them to be there on time if he is not.

"Essential," Malcolm mutters. A label Gil has, but Malcolm doesn't, so it separates them in their work lives for the first time since they became a couple. It's not something Gil has any control over, but it remains a thorn in Malcolm's side and by extension, his own. The kid spends more time by himself these days, more time than they both know is healthy, but Malcolm hasn't exactly made the strongest effort to change that.

"We'll Zoom you in." The daily routine of JT or Dani hooking up the _Bright-mobile_ , as they’ve come to call it. JT had setup a monitor on a cart to physically extend Malcolm into the conference room after he had holed up in his loft. Gil had thought he'd need to chase the kid out of the precinct, but he couldn't get him anywhere near it. Though he learned it was in part due to his superior's threat of his contract being cancelled, much to Gil's chagrin, another part was anxiousness, fear.

"That got old six months ago," Malcolm retorts. The whole routine, this new life, has gotten old for both of them, and it doesn’t seem like it will be rectified anytime soon.

"You could go out, get a pedicure, a massage, a haircut if you want — "

"You don't like my hair?" Malcolm's eyes look up to him, seeking out any evidence of a lie Gil wouldn't even bother attempting to try.

"I like it." It's down to his chin when not gelled back, and Gil could play with it in bed like this, relaxing the kid for hours. Maybe on the weekend. "Was just an option — you haven't been out."

Malcolm looks away. "We're not supposed to be out."

Gil rolls his eyes. “We could go upstate, spend some time in the woods where we aren't as likely to need masks."

"You're city boy-ing me," Malcolm complains.

"Am I wrong?"

"No."

"Then pick something, kid. The whole situation is shit, but I know we can make the best of it." The time for subtle recommendations has passed. As much as Gil doesn't want to force a trip on Malcolm, the seventeen days he's counted since the kid left the loft makes him start to feel like it might come to that.

Malcolm nuzzles in tighter.

"Up you go," Gil says, sitting up and pulling Malcolm along with him. Malcolm grumbles, but Gil kisses his forehead and keeps on shifting to get out of bed even though the kid hasn't let go. "You're really demonstrating I don't have to city boy you here," he teases, the kid's hair draping over his arm like a curtain.

Malcolm flips him off and play falls to the floor in a thud.

Gil steps around him. "E for effort."

"F for fu—“

"No time," Gil cuts him off by closing the door to the bathroom.

* * *

The precinct is like the day before, like the day before. Gil makes the best of it, knowing the sooner the team progresses in the investigation, the sooner they can go home. They don't make a meaningful jump forward, but they clear enough research that Gil can go home without the threat of an imminent phone call. He can spend time with his partner and hopefully talk about where they might take a day trip or even get groceries together instead of alone.

"We're going to my mother's tonight," meets Gil's ears as soon as he opens the door to the loft.

He does a double-take at the kid in a suit for the first time in awhile. The navy has a sheen that glints emerald under the light in the entryway. His hair is gelled and the edges of his beard appear to have spent some time with the trimmer. He swallows the temptation to pull him into his arms and help him undress. "For?"

"Charity banquet turned auction thing. Online bidding, but you and I are gonna play Vanna White for a little while. Or Deal or No Deal model — whichever fantasy you prefer." The kid's hands gesture around, and Gil can't tell if he's excited or nervous — maybe both.

Much as that is _not_ what he thought his evening would entail, Gil is not about to turn down the kid getting out of the loft. He needs to give him credit for attempting something. "Should I eat beforehand?"

"She'll feed us. I already picked out your suit." Malcolm points to the bedroom. "Hop in the shower and off we go."

Suit? Gil gives Malcolm a scowl, questioning why his attire needs to match, but lets it go. If that's what he needs to do to have an evening out together, it's a small price to pay. He steps forward to give his partner a brief kiss in greeting and heads off to get ready.

* * *

“Bigger smile, Malcolm, we’re not going for sympathy here,” Jessica chides, walking around the living room as the camera crew tests their shots.

Gil and Malcolm are two of ten people scheduled to hold pieces to auction to raise funds to fight human trafficking. Art, tickets, experiences and other wares line folding tables, waiting in queue to be shown off. Son of the host, Malcolm gets to be the stand-in while they get ready, a puppet expected to respond to every command. Poised to step in to restore peace, Gil keeps him company while everyone else is in the other room eating dinner.

The coffee-brown corduroy suit Gil is wearing is one of Malcolm’s favorites, and it’s comfortable, at least. He didn’t get to sneak a sweater underneath it like he wanted, something about it not being Jessica-approved in front of the camera, but it’s a small complaint. He stays socially-distanced in the corner, eating bites of dinner from his plate and observing the proceedings.

Seeing Malcolm frown again at another snide comment of his chin not being at the right angle so as not to distract from the small vase he’s holding, Gil offers, "Would you like some toast? I think I also saw some tomato soup."

"That's gazpacho," Jessica corrects. Gil ignores her.

"I'm not hungry," Malcolm responds, fingers curling and uncurling as one hand jitters at his side. Jessica snaps her fingers for him to look at the camera again.

"Whiskey?"

"Please." The tension seeps out of Malcolm's body on the word, shoulders sinking.

Gil is finding they both will need the alcohol to get through the evening without saying something to Jessica that they'll get an earful for the next day. It's for charity. It's an evening out of the loft.

It's something.

* * *

The charity livestream runs like an assembly line. Gil and Malcolm get their turn at holding wares for auction under the lights, society smiling for the camera as prompted, then once five minutes pass, moving on to the next piece. Having drank enough alcohol that his mother's complaints no longer affect him, Malcolm completes the tasks as directed, without argument. Gil relaxes a little bit, laughing at the oddity of the experience in between his stints on camera. The other guests are jovial, and that lightens the mood to something that passes as an okay night out.

Gil and Malcolm are released to take a short break, rotating out so the viewers get a change in face every once in awhile. Walking away from the main space, Malcolm's frame relaxes as they escape the crowd, Gil knowing that the number of people involved is likely more than he'd anticipated.

Malcolm tugs Gil into the library, a sharp change in direction from the main hall where Gil had been headed. He slides Gil's mask down, flicks his own off his ear at the same time, and lands a kiss on him. He pushes him against a shelf and flattens himself against his front, deepening the kiss. Feeling a stiff poke at his thigh, Gil breaks away.

"I'm ready to go home," Malcolm announces, his face lit with the gleam of desire.

Gil chuckles. This is his Malcolm. A glimpse of his ready for anything partner that has been a little dim, hidden. ”Our jobs," he reminds him with a smirk.

"She'll get mad later." Malcolm nudges Gil with his growing arousal. "We're going home. That suit, just, unhh — “ His eyes close and Gil kisses him. “You’re coming out of it. You’ve been on display for everyone else — now it’s _me_ time.”

"Okay. How about you take a minute?" Gil puts some space between them so there’s some hope of getting out of the house without a scene.

Malcolm whips his jacket off and holds it in front of him. "Nah, let's go."

"You're fooling no one," Gil says as Malcolm leads him out the door.

"I don't care."

At this point, Malcolm practically skipping out of the house, Gil doesn’t either.

* * *

On the drive, Gil can see movement from the jacket in the passenger seat, movement that can only be the kid's hand underneath. It takes everything he has not to find a spot to pull over and take Malcolm in the car. "Can't you wait until we get home? You're killing me here."

Malcolm looks over at him with a gleam in his eye and a knowing smirk. He quickly flicks up the edge of the jacket, revealing a glimpse of his open fly and a firm stroke over his cock. Pink head in plain view, nothing is left to the imagination.

"Jesus, Bright." Gil's cock twitches, uncomfortably pushing against his fly.

Malcolm's smile grows to an impish grin.

"You'll pay for it when we get home,” Gil warns, focusing on the road so they actually make it home.

"I'm counting on it." Malcolm rests his hand on Gil’s thigh.

“Not until we’re home.” Gil swats his hand away.

Malcolm gives an exaggerated sigh that reminds Gil of when things don’t quite go the kid’s way. “ _Fiiine_.”

At least Gil can’t see the puppy-dog eyes he’s sure are looking his way. He's not confident he'd be able to resist giving in. He focuses on the scent of hand sanitizer that lingers in the car instead, hoping it’s enough to distract him until they get home, but the attempt is futile, his cock growing at the sounds from the seat beside him.

* * *

The kid is out of the car before Gil even puts it in park. The two of them race up the stairs, Malcolm pulling Gil's shirt out of his pants as they go, turning their formal attire into a rumpled mess. It makes Gil feel like he’s young again, like they haven’t seen each other in a week and race to fuck before a roommate can discover the sock on the doorknob.

By the time they make it inside, Malcolm has Gil's belt off and is working on his zipper. His other hand cups his own bulge, erection pushing against his palm. Having teased himself the bulk of the car ride, the kid’s ready to go.

Gil sweeps Malcolm's shirt off in one motion. He keeps the tie and starts winding it around one wandering wrist. "Behind your back," he orders, nipping his shoulder.

" _Gil_ — " Malcolm whines.

Gil silences him with a kiss, wrapping the tie around his wrists at the same time and knotting it. Once he's satisfied the kid can't touch himself, he leads him backward to the bed and removes the rest of Malcolm's clothes in a tug. "You're done," he says firmly, watching him squirm laid out sideways across the mattress. "Only me now." He re-fastens his own pants, keeping them on. His cock twitches as his authoritative tone grows Malcolm's pupils to saucers.

Kneeling, he curses the damn step to the platform bed for the thousandth time, the statement piece not offering any comfort. He pulls Malcolm toward him by the ankle and gives his cock a long lick, tasting salt and inhaling the light smell of sweat from their time under the lights. Giving a wet suck to his head and circling it with his tongue, the kid bucks and pushes further into Gil's mouth, so Gil pulls away.

"More," Malcolm demands, propping himself up on his elbows.

Of course the kid is going to be bratty as fuck. It's a small wonder they even made it out of the car. Gil isn't interested in a quickie — he wants to test Malcolm until he's begging to come. "Patience. On your knees."

Malcolm eagerly pops up on the bed, presenting his ass for Gil and giving it a wiggle that leaves Gil kneading the firm flesh, each squeeze hardening his own cock. The kid must think he'll take him like that, push into him now. He's wrong. _Very_ wrong.

Gil lightly tugs him upright by the hair and holds his back against his chest. His hand trails through the fuzz on the kid's stomach, playing and drifting toward his cock but not quite touching. "Stay like this," he orders in Malcolm's ear, pressing his tented pants into Malcolm's forearm. "Relax a minute."

That seems to get through to the kid. Taking his time kissing every bit of Malcolm's shoulders and back, Gil leaves behind goatee-reddened patches of skin and wet trails that cool in the air. The marks grow Gil's arousal, label the kid _his_ that some primal part of him responds to.

Licking Malcolm's index finger, Gil takes it into his mouth and reaches to give his partner's cock the same treatment. Malcolm bucks into his hand immediately, cock leaking. Gil goes through all of Malcolm's fingers, sucking each of them with the verve typically reserved for his cock. He lets go when the kid keeps rocking into his hand, seeking more friction than Gil's ready to give.

"On your back," Gil orders. His knees are protesting the time on the floor, and he needs to get Malcolm into a position he can't try to get off so easily.

Slowly undoing the knot in his tie, Gil loses his first piece of clothing. Kneeling on the bed, he slips it around Malcolm's cock and balls and ties it into a cock ring, giving it a tug that widens Malcolm's eyes. "Something extra," he says. Lapping Malcolm's straining cock, he leaves him air-drying again.

Gil grabs Malcolm's hips and leans him backwards, weight tipping to his shoulders and ass up in the air. It gives him perfect access to spread the kid's cheeks and swirl his tongue around his hole. "Hghhhhhh." Malcolm's hips twitch. Gil wonders how long he can keep him going like this.

Malcolm can't do anything but take it, and the knowledge leaves Gil rock hard. Gil laps at Malcolm's hole like a cat bathing, circling his rim in long swathes, licking hair and perineum, and basking in every stutter and moan. Palming his balls, he rolls them between his fingers, tugging as his tongue dips into his hole. He rubs his goatee against the sensitive skin 'til Malcolm's cock weeps on his stomach, crying for more.

Gil cups Malcolm's cock, not moving, not pressing, just holding onto the sticky skin with a promise of what's to come. The moans that come from him are delicious, spur him to plunge his tongue deeper, lick the rouged skin at his rim in a rapid bob that leaves the kid begging unintelligible syllables.

On a glimpse between Malcolm's legs, Gil catches that Malcolm's face is flushed bright red from being tipped up. He lowers him back down and sucks the pliable skin of his balls as a parting kiss, then puts some distance between them to give him a chance to catch his breath.

"Touch me, Gil. _Please_ ," Malcolm begs. His drooling cock stretches for the stickiness on his stomach. A pump or two and Gil could probably have him violently coming all over the sheets.

Eventually.

Gil takes a moment to remove his jacket and shirt and finally discards the pants Malcolm had been trying to get into as they raced up the stairs. He palms himself through his shorts, not yet letting the kid see.

"Do you want my mouth?" Malcolm is already leaning forward to get closer. "I can — "

"Stay," Gil commands. Malcolm stills, straight as an arrow. Gil peeks his cock through his shorts and leans forward to press the head along his partner's cheek. "Lay back for me."

"I'd like — " Malcolm darts his tongue out in an attempt to lick Gil's cock, but Gil pushes him back before he can connect. Not yet. Gil walks away from the bed to get the lube out of the nightstand, letting the kid stew for a minute for being fresh.

When he turns back, the kid surprisingly hasn't moved. He drops his shorts and gives him a preview of his cock from a distance as he squeezes the base, throbbing in his hand. The wait maintains a steady buzz of arousal that pounds to be acted upon. _Soon_ , Gil reminds himself, tempering his own want. He needs to make this last for Malcolm, to draw it out a little bit more 'til the kid is melting in a spectacular orgasm that leads to an uninterrupted sleep.

He pulls Malcolm to the edge of the bed and squeezes lube onto his hand to warm it. "I don't need prep. Just you," Malcolm says as Gil lubes his fingers. Two slip into his hole in quick succession, curving to reach their target. "N-no more." His face turns away. 

Gil stalls, the plea sounding too close to what Malcolm says in the grasp of a night terror. He removes his fingers and leans over to cup the kid's cheek. "You okay?"

"I didn't safe out." Malcolm's big eyes look back at him, urging him to continue. Part of Gil thinks he'd be in a harmful headspace and still give him that same damn look. 

They’ve gotten a pretty good grasp on communication during sex and changing course, so Gil can't let it go quite that easily. "Do you want to shift or something? Tell me what you need."

"Your cock." Malcolm runs his tongue in a loop along his lips.

Gil removes the tie from Malcolm's cock and tosses it over his shoulder. "Too much teasing?" he asks as he slicks his cock with a few firm pumps and lines up with Malcolm's hole. On his knees, he pushes in and Malcolm bites his lower lip. That first hold is so tight around Gil’s cock, he lets out a low “Mmm,” between pinched lips.

"It's good. Seriously."

Gil smears the precome on Malcolm's belly with his fingers and runs it over Malcolm’s cock. He pulls Malcolm’s ankles over his shoulders and gives an experimental thrust into his tight hole to test how ready they both are. It's a slow build — enough to give Malcolm what he wants yet designed to draw things out as long as possible.

“Fuuuck.” Malcolm lets out a whine. His face writhes against the bed, eyes tightly closed as if one more sense would be too much.

Gil kisses the inside of Malcolm’s knee and lets his cock go, leaving it to rest against his stomach. Giving long, slow thrusts, Gil relishes in the feel of his partner around him, surrounding his cock with his tight walls. Each rock scoots them a little further along the bed until they run out of runway. Malcolm's head tips over the edge of the bed, his mussed hair reaching for the floor. His shoulders start to go next when Gil pulls him up by the bicep and hair and slides back. "Can you ride me like this?" Gil asks, holding his shoulder and hip. He knows it'll be an ab workout, sure, but the kid would enjoy putting his fitness to good use.

Malcolm nods. “Yeah — I've got it."

The kid sways on the first attempt to lift up, but Gil holds him firm, providing enough support so the next rock goes smoothly. "Look so good like this, Bright. Ready to be fucked.”

Each time Malcolm sinks onto his cock, his hair falls forward, shrouding his expressive blues. He’s concentrating on something Gil can’t see, biting his lip and looking somewhere over Gil’s shoulder. "Can you touch me a little? Please?" He sighs on the next rock. "I feel... lonely,” he admits.

"I'm right here, Bright." Gil moves his hand from Malcolm's shoulder up into his hair, stroking his cheek to reassure him and check in as they've grown accustomed to. He reads his expression for fear, upset… frustration? He’s not sure.

Malcolm shakes his head, and everything in Gil's mind shifts to pause — the kid needs a minute he rarely asks for, and Gil is ready to give him whatever that entails. "Can you untie me?” he asks. Gil feels the muscles in his neck attempt to dip down and hide his face, but his hand prevents the escape from the communication. “I won’t touch myself — I promise.”

With a quick tug, the knot in the tie around Malcolm’s wrists comes loose and his arms come around front, fingers moving like they’re regaining circulation. A wave of shame hits Gil — he didn’t realize he’d made the knot _that_ tight. He takes each arm in turn, kisses both reddened wrists, and massages the fingers, apologizing for the misstep. Sitting up a little, he slips out and pulls Bright into a hug, pressing kisses under his ear. “I’m here,” he soothes in a soft murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.” Malcolm runs his hands along Gil’s back, hugging him tighter. “It was a long time.” The kid’s head still peeking over his shoulder, Gil realizes what he was looking at while he rode him — the clock on the hi-fi stereo.

"I'm sorry. I didn’t know you were uncomfortable. Can you tell me — "

"Too tight. Need to touch you tonight. I don't want to stop," Malcolm clarifies firmly, meeting Gil's eyes. "Can I?" he asks, hand gesturing to Gil's cock.

"You're okay?"

"Yes."

"I'm okay." Gil nods that Malcolm can proceed, and Malcolm takes him into his hand, circling the girth. Malcolm's beard scratching at his neck while he peppers kisses and the twist of fingers around his cock gives him some reassurance that the communication was a healthy redirection. He doesn’t quite understand what lonely means in this context when they hadn’t been separated from each other, but freeing his hands appears to have resolved the problem. They both agreed they're okay and it's not nearly the biggest issue they've encountered during sex — they can talk more about it later.

"Let me ride you against the headboard. It’ll be better,” Malcolm says and tongues his ear.

“Bright — “

“I’m good.” Malcolm says as if Gil requested additional confirmation and gives him a deep kiss. “I just needed this.” He bounces his hand off both of their chests.

They reposition, Gil sitting with his back against the headboard and Bright lowering himself into his lap. It's more togetherness, the two of them holding each other instead of solely Gil driving, and maybe that’s what the kid meant. Grabbing the headboard behind Gil, Malcolm kneels on one leg and pushes off the mattress with the other, picking up the pace a bit into a steady fall onto Gil’s cock. Gil rubs his thigh and kisses along his neck. "I've got you, city boy." He wraps his fingers around Malcolm's cock and gives a firm stroke. "I've got you."

Gil circles Malcolm’s head with his thumb, then alternates with a long, stretching stroke, oscillating between the two. Malcolm leans back, changing the angle to pushing off with his hands and feet, leaving him rocking faster and watching where they're joined. Gil can't help but stare himself, torn between watching their hips buck to meet each other and eyeing Malcolm's bouncing cock. Choosing to fist Malcolm's cock while he rocks, his eyes train where they're joined.

“Lay back,” Gil requests and gets his feet underneath him so he can shift to on top again. Pushing one of Bright’s legs up to his shoulder, he snaps his hips, his cock throbbing with want at being in control again.

Malcolm starts to reach for his purpled head, but squeezes Gil’s ass instead. Gil increases the tempo, rolling his hips and knowing he’s hitting his mark when his partner’s cock leaks onto his stomach.

“Harder,” Malcolm grunts, and Gil pistons faster, aware he knocks off of his partner’s prostate each time his mouth drifts open or eyes close.

Having learned the tapping rhythm Malcolm likes, Gil doubles down on giving it to him. Sweat drips from his forehead, down over his nose and into his goatee.

"Please make me come. _Please_ ," Malcolm begs, face scrunched up tight as if he’s about to burst. "So close."

Gil keeps up the pattering and Malcolm comes untouched, wailing on his release as milky come shoots up to his pecs. Malcolm murmurs low sounds as Gil continues the hard snap of his hips and comes, repeating off-beat thrusts through his orgasm, not wanting to give up the stimulation.

He falls forward and nibbles kisses along Malcolm's jawline, panting and catching his breath for several moments. "I'll draw you a bath and we can relax together as long as you want,” he promises and strokes Malcolm’s hair away from his face. “Bring out the nice loofah and rub in some of that fancy soap." Care for Malcolm as long as he needs and talk when he's ready.

"It's lavender body scrub — it's soothing." Malcolm cracks an eye open.

"The best for my city boy." Gil presses a kiss to his lips that Malcolm deepens.

"Thanks for today — I needed this," Malcolm says as they walk upstairs for the bathroom. It's far more casual and languid than their much earlier entrance into the apartment.

"We both did." Gil wraps his arm around him. "I love you, kid."

Malcolm beams, and that's enough of an answer.

* * *

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> i've received significant support from so many people in this fandom that help make my writing possible. as this story is E, if you're 18+ and would like to chat prodigal son with wicked awesome people, come on by the [pson trash server](https://discord.gg/TVkmgxV).


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